


flesh and blood (you deserve to be loved)

by rosedvst



Series: your love is my truth [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Confessions, Developing Relationship, FUCK SEASON 7, First Kiss, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 06, Season/Series 07, a lot of metaphors about fire bc i can't help myself, also acxa isnt in this... this is a het free zone, au where adam doesn't fucking die, basically a rewrite of s7 where lance is actually treated w respect lmao, loosely based on canon events ig, space road trip!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-20 07:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15529560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosedvst/pseuds/rosedvst
Summary: Lance is melting under the intensity of Keith’s words, the sincerity of his voice, the softness of his heart. Falling for him all over again, but in different ways--not just for his smiles and his hands and his iridescent eyes, but for his heart and his voice and the way he makes Lance feel--tender and warm and deeply, deeply in love.Keith is like the ocean, Lance thinks, in that he is incredibly deep and beautiful and dangerous and dark. And when you get too close, he pulls you in like the sinking tides. Whether or not you embrace him is up to you.☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟOr, Lance dreams of Earth's oceans to put out the fire raging within him. Falling in love with Keith happens somewhere along the way.





	flesh and blood (you deserve to be loved)

**Author's Note:**

> me, looking at the characters who deserve so much better than what vld has done to them: my city now  
> yeah so this is basically just like me ignoring canon and writing lance and keith the way they should have been written smh. also Adam doesn't die in this because fuck that. i am still incredibly upset  
> in addition i did NOT like Keith's characterization in this season... or in like, any of the other seasons excluding 1-3. so like. i'm pretty much ignoring it as far as this fic goes.  
> also the zethrid/ezor ep and the game show ep were both bullshit so i erased them from existence. i live in fanon now. this is my home  
> title is from Florence + the Machine's song Third Eye. i'm a lesbian  
> thanks for reading ily mwah

Lance thinks that he’s in love, but he can’t be sure.

It’s in the pulsing of his heart when he hears a gravelly voice laughing at one of Hunk’s jokes over the comms. It’s in the smile gracing his face when he feels a gloved hand on his shoulder, on his back, on his neck. It’s in the tingle of his skin, the flush of his cheeks, the warmth of his bloodstream whenever he catches sight of dark hair scraped into a ponytail and a dimpled grin, broad shoulders and tan skin. Crinkled eyes and a crooked nose and bruised knuckles. Chapped lips and a gap between teeth. Radiance emanating from every single feature, every single bump and ridge and scar.

“Is this love?” Lance whispers, when no one can hear him--when the comms are off and his lion is silent and his only company are the stars and the black of space and Kaltenecker, mooing softly at his side. But nobody answers. And he doesn’t know.

Lance keeps asking anyways.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

Lance thought he knew what love was when he looked at Allura. Looked at her warmth and her regalness and her undeniable beauty, the alien hues of her pink eyes and the softness of her manicured hands and the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed. When she looked at Lance, she made him want to be a better person. She changed him for the better.

But things are different now, and Lance knows this. Lotor took her trust and her heart and crumpled them beneath his boot without looking back. His betrayal sliced deep into Allura’s heart, and the wounds have yet to scab over, to scar.

Allura talks about this to Lance, when they sit alone on desolate asteroids, taking a break from flying in their lions. Talks about her hurt. She needed time to heal. Still needs time.

Lance understands this, and understands that being Allura’s friend right now is more important than being anything else to her. The passion and urgency in the affections he holds for Allura fizzle out. He becomes her support system, reassurance, and good friend. It feels more fulfilling than he would ever would have imagined.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

(Allura is everything Lance had ever wanted, when he was younger and bright-eyed and hoping desperately to be granted the luxury of a person’s heart, someone who was beautiful inside and out. Someone who thought the same of Lance.

Everything has changed, though. Lance decides that he doesn’t know what he wants. He still loves her, but it’s not the same as it used to be. She is his best friend, and he wouldn’t have anyone else. He is lucky. He is happy.)

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

(Until he isn’t.)

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

Until he lies awake at night, under the skies of a foreign planet with several moons and unfamiliar constellations, restless and yearning. Until he wants something more--not necessarily with her, but with someone, someone who can fill the gaps in his heart and soul. Someone who will reach out with love and reverence and say, “You’re beautiful.” Say, “You shine like the sun.” Say, “I think I’m in love with you.”

He prays for this without shame. Where is the shame in wanting someone to value him? To compliment him? To love him endlessly, recklessly, irrevocably?

He never imagined that he would be developing new feelings so quickly, so suddenly, right after the ones he held for Allura had departed with a sense of finality.

But here he is, blindsided and utterly unprepared for whatever _this_ is.

Keith calls his name, and it sounds like the beginning of a song that he desperately wants to hear the rest of. Keith touches his shoulder and it feels like supernovas exploding across his skin where his hand lingers. Keith looks at him, and winks, and smiles, and touches, and Lance wants more and more and more.

Before, it was uncertainty and misunderstandings and aggression. It was hurt when Keith didn’t recognize him at first, and anger when Keith flew and fought and lived so effortlessly, and jealousy when he seemed totally unaware of how great he was.

Now, after separation and maturity and the promise of returning to Earth, things are soft. Gentle. Keith makes jokes constantly, and laughs out loud at the ones Lance whispers to him when they’re surrounded by everyone else but it feels like its just them. Keith snorts when he laughs, and it should be funny and a little bit ugly because it's _Keith_ but Lance can’t help but think that it’s a precious little sound. Lance’s heart flutters all of the time. These new feelings envelop him, inject him with joy and hope and happiness.

Lance pretends not to know what they mean.

How can he know what love is, when he has never experienced a reciprocated version of it? When all of his affections have been unrequited or poorly-timed or inconvenient to the mission? His love for Allura was fluttery and light and exciting. His love for his middle school crush Gabriela had been candy-sweet and innocent and lovely. His love for Eli, the boy who was his assigned lab partner during his Chemistry class at the Garrison, was shy and deep and radiant. But they never got anywhere past platonic, past timid smiles and hesitant pick up lines.

His love for Keith is different. It’s new and inexperienced. At the same time, it has been building ever since he first caught sight of Keith at the Garrison; when Keith was a Junior Cadet with a chip on his shoulder and bruises on his knuckles and a knack for acing all the drills and simulations they threw his way while not giving a damn what anybody thought of him.

His love for Keith is surprising and electric, because Lance never realized how well their banter flows during missions, or how well their punches land when they’re sparring, or how they fight together during battles with a certain synchronized ease that Lance doesn't have with anyone else. He never realized how much time they actually make for each other, whether it's just to sit and talk about nothing, or if it's to check up on each other after a battle, or if it’s just a split second of brief eye contact before a mission, a little _stay safe out there_. A comfort.

His love is intense and all-consuming, because now that Lance realizes how he feels, the thought of _What if he feels the same?_ lingers at the back of his head, unrelenting, pushing and prodding at Lance’s heart until he feels like he may explode.

Lance lets the love consume him, and accepts his fate of being romantically doomed for all eternity. He is a dying star, all embers and flecks of cosmos and sparks. He will burn out eventually, unless he has someone to light his flame, to keep him glowing. He doesn’t know if he will ever earn that.

He starts to fade.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

Lance talks to Shiro about the fire within him, because he doesn’t know who else to talk to, and because he thinks Shiro would be the most understanding about this. The original Shiro, the one that Lance rescued all those years ago (alongside Keith--because Lance's life never fails to be ironic) was kind, and patient, and always willing to talk. Lance hopes that now, after the clone Shiro’s consciousness has been displaced, he is back to the way he was. Lance is still unsure about talking to him, though, especially about this. He doesn’t know what to expect.

He would talk to Allura about his feelings, but there is an awkwardness between them that, although not prominent, lingers in the tail-end of their conversations. Talking to her about his newfound feelings for Keith wouldn’t help that. He doesn’t want to burden her with another problem anyway. She has enough on her plate, and a lot on her mind. He leaves her be.

He would talk to Hunk or Pidge, but the last time he tried, when he was still crushing on Allura, they teased him and then moved on, as if Lance feelings didn’t matter at all to them. He felt the hurt that came with their subtle jabs, and he guarded his trust from them from that moment on. He knows that eventually his hurt will be forgotten. For the time being, though, he doesn’t go to them. They don’t deserve the right to his heart.

He would talk to Coran, except he isn’t sure if Coran would even understand. He could talk to Krolia, except she’s scary as shit and also Keith’s mother, which would not help his situation in the slightest; or he could talk to Romelle, except he doesn’t know her well enough to confide in her the way he would need to, and in any case she seems to be closer to Allura and Hunk.

He has limited options. Shiro is his best bet. He decides to talk to Shiro.

So he waits until Shiro accompanies him in Red’s cockpit on one of the long stretches of their voyage. Shiro had been switching between the lions since the start of their road-trip, taking turns riding with all of the different paladins. Its nice that he is finding time to spend with all of them, Lance thinks. He’s a good man. A good leader.

When Shiro settles into the Red Lion with him, Lance switches off his comms so that they don’t have to listen to Coran and Romelle dueting the Altean alphabet from Green’s cockpit over and over again. And then there is just silence, long and comfortable between them.

Lance fidgets in his seat, hands at Red’s controls, and thinks of a way to bring this up. He has been rehearsing it to himself ever since he realized that he wanted to talk to Shiro about this, but at this moment his mind goes blank. Lance is lost.

Does Shiro even know that Lance isn’t straight? God, he hadn’t even thought of that. How would he even bring that up? _Oh, hey Shiro! How are you doing? Have you recovered from having your consciousness transplanted from the infinity of Voltron’s inter quintessence into the dead body of an evil clone yet? Oh, by the way, I’m bi and totally in love with your little brother even though I kinda hate him and think his face is dumb and his hair is stupid--_

“Is everything okay, Lance?” Shiro asks slowly in the quiet, and Lance guesses that he was probably looking disgruntled as his thoughts played out in his head.

“Of course! Everything is great,” Lance tries to inject his voice with his usual enthusiasm. He knows that he isn’t doing a good job at it. His voice falls flat even to his own ears and his grin doesn’t reach his eyes. He averts his gaze from Shiro. “I mean… No, not really.”

Shiro leans forward, frown on his face and eyebrows furrowed. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, and Lance has never been more grateful for the endless capacity of Shiro’s care.

“Yeah, I do. But I don’t know if you can help me all that much anyway,” Lance says, staring out at the expanse of stars before them. The Black Lion flies slowly up ahead, leading the way, and Lance follows close behind, ever the right hand man. Lance wonders absently what Keith is doing right now. Is he talking to Krolia? Is he cooing at Kosmo, a habit he picked up from his two years spent on a magic space whale? Is he sitting at Black’s controls, wondering what Lance is doing at the moment?

“What is it, Lance?” Shiro asks softly. “You can talk to me. I promise. I’m not like… how he was before.”

And Lance knows that he’s referring to his clone, the ghost of the man sitting next to him who raised his voice much too often and made rash decisions and didn’t listen to his team members; the one with a dark energy and a glint in his eyes that Lance wasn’t able to decipher. He knows that this Shiro’s different. Confiding in him is still hard, though.

“I…” Lance starts, then stops, because he still hasn’t figured out how to tell Shiro that he likes girls but that he also maybe likes boys and that he also kinda sorta likes specific boys with fangy smiles and bad posture and scars that dance across their cheekbones. He doesn’t know how to say that he likes boys who smirk and boys who tease and boys who squeeze his hand gently with warmth in their eyes in soft purple lighting. He doesn’t know how to say that he likes Keith.

So he decides not to. _Work on telling him you like dudes first_ , his brain supplies helpfully.

Shiro is still looking at him with all of the patience in the world. His hair glints, silver in the lighting of the Red Lion. Lance thinks absently that his new hair suits him. He kinda looks like a grandpa, but also an angel. A grandpa angel.  

“Shiro, I like girls,” Lance blurts. Shiro stares at Lance blankly, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Lance takes a deep breath. _You can do this_. “But... I also like guys. I’m bisexual,” He says, and a weight is suddenly lifted off of his shoulders, because he finally told someone on the team, and it feels absolutely amazing. “I like guys,” He repeats, louder now, just because he can, and happiness bubbles up within him.

Lance turns to Shiro. He expects Shiro to be looking at Lance like he has grown another head. At the most, he expects Shiro to smile at him and offer him an exasperated “Okay, Lance.” What he didn’t expect was to be met with Shiro’s beaming face.

When Shiro smiles--really smiles--it stretches across his face, all teeth and crinkles by his eyes and dimples in his chiseled cheeks. Lance is left speechless in the face of Shiro’s brightness. He doesn’t know why Shiro is looking at him like that. He has never expected Shiro to look at him like that. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Lance,” Shiro says, and Lance can already feel himself breaking down, because it has been a while since someone has spoken to him with that much fierce pride in their voice, that much admiration and respect. “Thank you for telling me. You have no idea how proud I am of you. I know it must be hard, going through all of this while also dealing with being a paladin of Voltron and defending the universe. You are so strong.”

Lance feels the tears building up in his eyes, clouding his vision. All of the pent up rage and frustration and sadness from the past couple of years spent in space are finally being released in this moment, he realizes. Shiro immediately picks up on this, and leans forward to wrap his arm around Lance. The tears begin to trail down Lance’s face, and then he is ugly crying onto Shiro’s paladin armor, and the whole arrangement is kind of uncomfortable and not quite how he pictured it going, but Lance wouldn’t change a thing about it.

After a few moments, Shiro speaks with smile in his voice. “You know, when I went through my sexuality crisis, my biggest problems were whether or not I would make it to class on time, or my failing physics grade.”

Lance blinks, tears drying on his face, then pulls back. He stares at Shiro for a split second of silence, mind racing, and then he is yelling, “ _Sexuality crisis?_ ”

Shiro flinches at Lance’s loud tone, but smiles again, a bit bashful. “I’m gay, Lance.”

“What?” Lance exclaims, mouth agape and eyes wide.

“I like men?” Shiro tries again.

“ _What_?”

Lance processes those words for a few seconds, pulling them apart and putting them back together again in his head, over and over. They fill Lance up with such a profound sense of inspiration that he almost wants to cry. Takashi Shirogane, star pilot and Lance’s hero since childhood, is gay.

“Yeah. I was engaged before I left on the Kerberos mission. We broke it off before then, though.” Shiro has a faraway look in his eyes for a second, but then he is looking back at Lance and there is just sadness.

“Oh,” Lance breathes, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry, Shiro.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Lance. I just…” Shiro pauses. Clenches his jaw. “I miss him. So much sometimes that it feels like I’m drowning.”

And Lance gets it. He understands Shiro’s hurt, because he thinks about Keith leaving for the Blade of Marmora, and how he never knew if Keith was alive or not, and of how there was always an empty space next to him when everyone gathered on the bridge for a coalition meeting. How he met Keith’s eyes through the screen when Keith appeared at Kolivan's side and felt the ache deep within him, like a piece of him was missing, and how Keith always locked eyes with him before the screen went blank and he disappeared once again.

Lance’s mouth is dry and his eyes get misty, so he clears his throat and looks down at the ground. “What was he like?” Lance asks, and he knows it’s probably not the best question to ask right now, but he burns with the need to know more about this hidden part of Shiro, and they still have a long way to travel before they stop to rest.

Shiro smiles, and its a private one that Lance has never seen before--soft and delicate and a sign that Shiro is still so clearly and obviously devoted. “His name was Adam. He loved tea with honey and stealing my sweatshirts and we used to marathon the X-Files together on the weekends. He called me Takashi.”

Lance wants to cry all over again because he had never known that Shiro, Voltron’s fearless leader and courageous hero, could look so tender and reminiscent and so deeply, deeply in love.

Lance thinks back to his Garrison days. He thinks he recalls a teacher there who taught one of the beginning engineering courses, a man whose first name was Adam with brown eyes and brown skin and a warm demeanor. Lance is floored.

“He was so important to me.” Shiro continues. “I never got to tell him that.”

Lance continues to stare. No words come to him.

Shiro turns to look at him and says, gently, “I should have. I should have told him every day that I loved him, that I would move heaven and earth to make him happy. But I didn’t. And I left in the end, and went on that mission to Kerberos. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him, and regret my decision, and wonder if he’s doing okay. If he’s happy now.”

Lance pushes his emotions back down and focuses on Shiro’s face, on the ways his lower lip trembles slightly and his eyes close slowly. He’s seemingly attempting to regain his composure, to keep his cool on front of Lance. It pains Lance to watch.

“Lance, if you ever find someone who makes you feel the way I felt about Adam…” Shiro pauses; corrects himself. “The way I feel about Adam. If you ever find someone who makes you breakfast because you can’t cook to save your life and makes you laugh until your stomach hurts and and calls you by your real name... then you shouldn’t let them go.”

Lance thinks about that for hours after their conversation ends.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

(“Was that all you wanted to talk about, Lance?” Shiro asks as they exit the Red Lion and step out onto a small remote planet to rest for the night.

Lance catches sight of Keith walking down the ramp of the Black Lion, Krolia right behind him. They are arguing about something, but it must not be serious because the both of them are smiling, and Keith laughs after Krolia says something that must be particularly outrageous.

“Yeah, that’s everything,” Lance lies, turning back to Shiro and smiling. “Thank you, Shiro.”

Shiro claps his shoulder and says, “You can talk to me anytime Lance. We gotta stick together, you and I.”

He’s gone with a wink and a wave.

The fire inside is lessened, but Lance is still burning.)

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

Days pass. The haze of flying in the lions for so long clouds Lance’s mind. He doesn't feel real. Everything feels like a trance--like Lance is really back home in Varadero, in his small twin bed, only ever dreaming of space and lions and aliens and love, never having actually left the Earth's atmosphere, the sound of the ocean lulling him into an endless sleep.

The team all interact with Lance in their own special ways, in an attempt to keep both him and themselves sane. Hunk sends Kosmo over with snacks and funny little notes. Pidge sets up Killbot Phantasm in Red’s cockpit and plays with Lance for a while. Allura hangs out with him and lets him braid her hair. Lance appreciates their gestures. Appreciates their friendship. He’s glad he’s stuck in the vast vaccuum of space with them.

Keith spends time with him when they land on little planets and asteroids for a break, taking walks with him and Kosmo and talking to him about anything and nothing at all. They exchange jokes and secrets and long glances with one another, and Lance feels like there is something there, that maybe Keith is also burning with something that is similar to Lance's own fire. But he is too afraid to ask.

When they can manage it, the team will stop on a desolate planet with a breathable atmosphere and sleep outside. Having solid ground beneath them is a luxury these days, Lance realizes. They line their sleeping bags up and tuck their bayards under their pillows, then crawl in and look up at the stars. Sometimes they fill the night with soft chatter and laughs. Other times they remain quiet. Lance and Keith, more often than not, stay up long after the others have all fallen asleep, whispering quiet confessions to each other into the dark.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when you get to Earth?” Keith asks one night, on a planet with blue grass and violet skies and a pink ocean that stretches across the horizon. The rest of the team sleeps peacefully. Pidge snores loudly, the sound getting lost in the sounds of the planet's wildlife. Alien insects hum and chirp and something that sounds suspiciously like an owl hoots in the distance. Kosmo rests in between Lance and Keith, curled up and breathing deeply in his sleep.

Lance hums. “Besides see my family? Go to the beach.”

Keith looks over. His hands are folded over his chest, and his eyes are glowing yellow and purple in the dark. It must be some Galra trait he inherited from his mother. It's kinda freaky, Lance decides.

“How come?” He asks.

“I grew up so close to the beach, in Varadero. It was never too far away. At night, I could hear the sound of the waves crashing all the way from my house. The water was always so shallow and warm. I taught my niece how to surf there. It’s just… Full of good memories. I feel like when you’re there, you forget about everything else. All of your problems fade away. It makes you feel safe.” Lance pauses, willing the tears away. He’s so tired. “I miss it.”

Lance keeps looking at the stars. He can feel Keith’s eyes on the side of his face.

“I…” Keith begins, hesitantly. “I’ve never been to the beach, on Earth. But it sounds really nice.”

“Yeah,” Lance says, stifling a yawn. “I’ll take you there sometime. When all this is over.”

In that moment, filled with nostalgia and longing and exhaustion, it feels like the unknown constellations are suffocating Lance. As he’s just about to fall asleep, Kosmo pressed up against his side, Keith reaches over and takes his hand. His fingers slot perfectly in between Lance's own. His thumb rubs circles on the back of Lance's hand. The feeling makes it easier to breathe.

Keith is saying something to him, but Lance can barely process it, sleep taking over all of his senses. It sounds like, “I’m sorry for leaving, Lance.” It sounds like, “I wish I knew how to comfort you.” It sounds like, “I would do anything to make you feel better, because I like you. So much it scares me.”

Lance falls asleep before he can think about the words too hard.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

Space road trips are full of opportunities.

This is a realization Lance comes to as he hears the quiet words to the made up song being sung over the comms, lilting and deep and melodic, much to Lance’s surprise.

Keith probably doesn’t realize he’s doing it, or if he does, he doesn’t know that his comms are still switched on and that everybody can hear him. Lance is trying his best to stay silent, because in all honesty he doesn’t want Keith to stop. He is incredibly cute in this moment, off guard and open and singing about "flying in the Black Lion".

Lance hears Pidge snicker quietly. It goes unnoticed by Keith, who continues to sing loudly.

“ _You think you’re gonna get away, no, no, no, Keith is coming to save the day-_ ”

“Uh, Keith?” Shiro, who is in the Yellow Lion with Hunk, finally cuts in. Lance can hear the smile in his voice. “Your comms are on.”

Even without seeing him, Lance can picture the way the blush must be spreading across Keith’s face as he splutters incoherently, eventually gritting out a "fuck you guys," before closing his comm channel. This is the loudest Lance has laughed in days.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

When they arrive on earth, Adam calls Shiro “Takashi”.

The sky is a pale orange color, and the clouds stretch thin and long as the sun sets before them. Lance emerges from the car beside Hunk, and already feels his composure crumbling. It’s been more than two years, he thinks. Two years since he has been on Earth, touched the soil, breathed the air. Two years since he has interacted with humans besides those on the team. Two years since he’s seen his family. It's been five years since they have seen him.

His knees buckle and then he is on the ground, fingers digging into the earth. It feels so solid, so real. This is the realest he has felt in months.

He registers that he is probably going into shock at the moment, but he can’t get himself to calm down. His breaths are hitching and his lungs are pinching and he can’t feel anything besides the sobs wrenching from his throat into the dry desert air.

Then Keith is there, crouching at his side, hand on the small of his back and eyes soft with worry. Allura also appears, offering words of comfort. He stands up again with their help. It’s always them, he realizes. The two of them. Allura and Keith. 

Garrison personnel are soon arriving, greeting the paladins in a group. Commander Holt bursts through the crowd, his wife right behind him. Once Pidge catches sight of her mom, she is breaking away from their makeshift group, flinging herself into her waiting mother’s arms with a sob. It’s heartwarming and heartwrenching at the same time. Lance can only think about how badly he wants to see his own Mama.

And then he hears a “ _Lance_!” shouted in his direction, and he turns, and--there they are. His Mama and his Papa and his niece and nephew and his brothers and sisters and tio and tia. Familiar faces, warm and bright and streaked with tears as they run toward Lance, yelling his name. Lance stares in shock for a moment, and then rushes forward with a shout, and everybody is there, tangled limbs and pounding hearts and murmurs of his name--not his nickname, but his real one, the one he hasn’t heard in years--“Leandro,” they cry, clutching at his body beneath the paladin armor--the same armor he wore protecting innocent lives and defending the universe from evil. It sounds like a prayer.

Lance stays there for what feels like years, crying and being held by his family. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world, in the galaxy. He has missed them so much.

Lance finally manages to stand, eyes blurry with tears and pumped full of adrenaline, and talks to them as he embraces each family member individually--Marco and Luis and Veronica and Raquel and his Mama and his Papa, and telling them how much he missed them, telling them of all of the things he has seen and places he has been and people he has met. His Spanish is mangled from disuse. They don’t seem to care. They love him. They are his family.

A man pushes forward amongst the crowd of Garrison officers just then, looking frantic and desperate. Lance stops in his tracks, words dying on his tongue. Adam is taller than how Lance remembers him in his distant memories--almost as tall as Shiro. His shoulders are broad in the Senior Officer uniform. His hair is swept to the side. His glasses are perched crookedly on his downturned nose. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open and he stares at Shiro, hand clutching at something strung on a chain around his neck. Lance realizes belatedly, as it glints golden in the falling sunlight, that it’s a ring.

Lance turns to look at Shiro as everything clicks into place. Shiro is staring back at Adam, speechless. The moment between them feels eternal.

And then they are both running at each other, meeting in the middle with cries and words that only reach each others’ ears. They sink to their knees, clutching each other desperately, and Lance thinks that if he were to ever give a definition to the word love, it would be the scene in front of him--Shiro’s arm wrapped around Adam’s waist, and Adam’s fingers running over Shiro’s face, through his hair, over his scar.

Lance hears Adam say his name, over and over again: “Takashi, Takashi, Takashi,” as if it were a lifeline, a chant. Lance hears Shiro say, so quiet he almost doesn’t catch it, “You waited for me.”

In his peripherals, he sees Keith grinning at the sight of them, a happy tear escaping his eye before he hastily rubs it away.

Lance wants to know a blinding love like this someday.

No fire, only light.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

The battle seems endless.

They are in their lions, and then they’re locked in cells on Sendak’s ship, and then they’re forming Voltron and fighting a crazy ass robeast, and the hours drag on, blurring together seamlessly with the intensity of the battle.

Lance could not describe the chain of events that led to the end of the fight to save his life. He is exhausted, bruised and beaten and bloody. He wants the fighting to stop.

It ends with Lance hurtling toward the ocean in Red, and praying to every God he has come to know in his eighteen years of travelling through innumerable solar systems that his team is safe. Veronica and Shiro and Adam and Coran in the Atlas. Pidge and Hunk, his best friends since the Garrison and partners for life. Allura, the biggest blessing he has received since leaving Earth. Keith. His enemy. Rival. Friend. Something more. Lance hears his voice as he plummets, hears his laughs and his yells and whispers and everything in between. Hears him calling out Lance’s name, raw and pained and full of something that Lance has never known.

He blacks out before he hits the water

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

It begins with him waking up in a hospital bed, aches deep in his bones, but surrounded by his family, surrounded by love. They talk for hours and touch and hug Lance and it is everything that Lance has ever wanted. He smiles, and cries, and laughs, and trembles with the weight of finally feeling complete. He is home.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

When the dust settles from the battle, reconstruction begins on Earth immediately. It is unlike anything Lance has ever seen before. Allies of the coalition come from all over the universe to help out, the Balmerans and the Puigians and the Olkari and even a few Arusians. Cities are rebuilt in days, with the help of the Olkari’s advanced technology. People can finally go back home and begin their lives again, after four years of war and loss and damage that had seemed irreparable at the time.

The paladins are forced to spend an inordinate amount of time recovering in the hospital, mostly on Shiro’s authority, but Lance is okay with it. They all need the rest.

Shiro comes to see each one of them in their respective hospital rooms during their stay. He visits Lance first, and talks about how great Lance was in the fight, and introduces Lance to Adam, who smiles crookedly and shakes Lance’s hand. Lance immediately takes a liking to him, to his friendly face and open personality and the way he looks at Shiro when Shiro isn’t looking back. With his eyes, Lance traces the place where Adam's hand rests on Shiro's back, and where Shiro reaches out and grabs Adam's hip. Everything about them is natural and comfortable. It's strange to think that just a couple of days earlier, Shiro had been alone and deep in space and without the man currently standing next to him. Shiro and Adam seem like two halves of one whole. Now that they have reunited, it feels unnatural to picture one without the other.

After they are discharged from the hospital, the paladins are granted a free week to spend with their families at home, before they should return to the Garrison to help out with the rebuilding of the Castle of Lions. Lance tears up at the prospect of being able to play with his niece and nephew again, being able to joke around with Marco and Luis and Veronica and Raquel, being able to hug his Mama and Papa and just live his life as if he were a regular teenager again, if only for a week.

Allura, Coran and Romelle plan on staying behind and getting the construction started with the help of Commander Holt. Pidge will stay with her father and mother at the Garrison, as they await for Matt’s belated arrival on Earth. After years, they will finally be a complete family again.

Shiro plans on going home with Adam, who lives relatively close to the Garrison. He says they have a lot of catching up to do. A lot of talking. Lance really thinks Shiro means a lot of making out, but he’s trying to be professional for the team’s sake. He catches Lance’s eye before he leaves, and gives him another wink. Lance doesn’t know what it means.

Keith and Krolia stay silent as everyone exchanges plans. When Lance asks them what they’re going to do, Keith looks at his mother and says, “Visit dad. Then we’ll come back here and help with the castle.”

The thought of Keith and Krolia going to visit a grave weighs on Lance’s mind. How sad it is, that returning to Earth for them doesn’t mean a happy reunion. It means seeing the ghosts of people that they had once loved.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

Before he knows it, Lance’s impulsive brain is telling him to go after Keith.

“Keith!” Lance calls, a couple of doboshes before he is supposed to take off in for Cuba in Red with the rest of his family. Keith turns and waits for Lance to catch up, already on his way to the Black Lion.

“Listen,” Lance begins. “I know that everyone is going back home right now, and that you… Don’t really have a place to go, besides the Garrison.”

Lance cringes at himself, because really, he sounded so insensitive about Keith’s situation. Keith didn’t visibly react to Lance’s abruptness, though, he just waited for Lance to continue his train of thought. He was still wearing his Garrison uniform, and his hair curled at his jaw and brushed along his shoulders. Lance likes it like this, long and loose and a bit wavy.

Lance says, “I was wondering if you would like to, uh… Visit me, sometime this week? In Varadero?”

Keith continues to stare blankly at Lance, no visible reaction to Lance's proposal evident on his face. _Shit_ , Lance thinks.

Lance begins to backtrack, hands waving in the air frantically. “I mean, only if you want, though!” He stutters. “And you’d probably have to come later in the week? I just remember you saying that you never got to see a beach on Earth, and I promised that I’d take you one day, and we have a whole week of free time now, so--”

Keith reaches out and takes Lance’s hands in his to stop them from waving around. He is smiling. _Oh wow, he is smiling_ , Lance thinks, and suddenly he is struck with the thought that Keith and Shiro do resemble each other, not necessarily in looks, but in mannerisms--Keith smiles in the same way that Shiro does: brightly and blindingly, dimples and crinkles and everything beautiful that should accompany a smile.

“Lance,” Keith says slowly. “I’d love to come.”

And then he’s in the Black Lion before Lance can even blink, taking off towards the sun.

Lance stares, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

Throughout his childhood, the air in Cuba had always felt too hot and humid to Lance. The constant rain in the summer afternoons was something that Lance had hated.

After being stuck in space for over two years, and being forced to visit planets that had conditions much worse than those of Cuba’s natural environment, Lance has never felt more in love with his country. When he touches down on the Varadero soil in the Red Lion, his lungs ache for the air, hot and humid as it may be, because it is familiar and safe and it is home.

He lands in the field that spans acres behind his house. When he exits Red and his feet touch the ground, family close behind him, the tears begin to roll down his cheeks. Veronica squeezes his shoulder and they share a sad smile.

It’s raining, because if there’s one thing Lance had missed the most about Cuba, it had been the rain, and everything in Lance’s life is poetic and melancholy and ironic. He lets the salt of his tears mix in with the heavy rain for what feels like hours. It soaks into his hair and clothes. He doesn’t mind the cold.

His Mama takes his hand and slowly leads him to the front of the house. It looks the same as he had left it all those years ago, with subtle little differences. The front door’s light blue paint is peeling. There are bicycles laying down on the grass inside their yard, rusted over and untouched. The mailbox leans crooked, dripping rainwater into a puddle below. All of these things trigger something in Lance. For a brief moment, he feels farther away from his family than he ever has, even when he was light years away in a foreign galaxy.

At least the gate still creaks in the same familiar way that it always has when he opens it. The path leading up to the front door is still uneven. He can still hear the beach, crashing and turning and beating against the pale beige sand, forever in motion.

It calms him.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

Keith does come to visit, although he has every reason not to, to stay at the Garrison with his mother and his brother and help to rebuild the castle.

Lance is helping out his Mama in the kitchen on the fourth day of his visit, chopping vegetables and herbs next to Veronica as they chat amicably, when he catches sight of the Black Lion. He stares at it through the window of his kitchen as it approaches his house, the garlic he is crushing between his palms long forgotten. He watches Black touch down in the field behind his house through the open window, fitting in right next to Red. The yellow curtains flow with the faint breeze. Lance is frozen.

He sees Keith come out of Black’s mouth, and he looks different--everything and nothing about him has changed. His signature red cropped jacket is gone, and instead he is wearing a bigger leather jacket that looks like it could be a hand-me-down. Lance wouldn’t be surprised if it had once belonged to Shiro. His hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, because of course it is. He looks cleaner, happier. Kosmo yips at his feet and races down the ramp, looking around at all of the new sights and sounds that Varadero has to offer.

Lance is running to open their screen door and stepping onto the back porch before he even realizes it. His bare feet are cold against the wood, and there is a gentle wind in the warm September air. Keith immediately catches sight of him and smiles. He even seems to be looking Lance up and down, which makes sense, Lance supposes, because he is finally wearing an outfit that Keith has never seen him in--athletic shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt that he got from one of those middle school years spent at Space Camp, that had spent months sitting in Lance's closet while he explored the depths of space. Now that he has all of his hair products back, his hair is actually curling the way it is supposed to. He definitely doesn’t look the same. Keith definitely isn’t looking him up and down because he is checking him out.

Keith walks up to where Lance is waiting on the porch, and there is a newfound spring in his step. He’s wearing combat boots for whatever reason, his old dumb red and white go-go boots long forgotten, and Lance can’t help but think that he looks kinda bad-ass, all leather and ink and confidence flowing off of him in waves. Lance smiles.

“Hey, man,” He says.

Kosmo yips, and then disappears in a flash. When he reappears on top of Lance, forcing him to tumble over, Keith laughs. Lance can’t help but join in.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

“Mama, this is Keith.” Lance says, leading Keith into the kitchen, and his Mama is looking at him, up and down, unreadable expression on her face and hand on her hip. She is most likely taking in the scar on Keith’s face, his dark clothes, and the knife he has strapped onto his belt. She is also probably looking at the giant ass teleporting space wolf he brought with him. “He is the paladin of the Black Lion, and one of my best friends.”

His family had already seen Keith, but only briefly; the paladins were too busy dealing with the incoming threat of the Galra to have formal introductions with Lance’s family. Lance had told them about his adventures in space while he was in the hospital, describing the cool planets and new technology and the Lions and the friends he had made along the way. He had definitely mentioned Keith more than once. He wonders if his Mama is trying to match the embellished description Lance had given of Keith to his dark appearance.

Before Keith can properly greet her, his Mama walks over and embraces him. She pulls back before he can even react and says, “Any friend of Leandro’s is welcome in this house. Come in, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” Keith says softly, and Lance is struck with a wave of something that he can’t decipher. Keith should look out of place in the warmth and coziness of Lance’s childhood home. Instead it feels like he has belonged here this entire time.

Veronica comes up next to Lance and says, in teasing Spanish, “He’s cute. When were you gonna tell me that you have a big crush on him?”

“Veronica, don’t be rude,” Their Mama cuts in, returning to the pastelitos she was making.

Lance’s face is burning, but he ignores the feeling as well as Keith's raised eyebrow, and instead says, in English, “Keith, you haven’t been formally introduced to my annoying older sister. This is Veronica.” Veronica ruffles Lance’s hair, and then leans down and gives Kosmo a pat.

Keith is extending a hand toward Veronica, and Lance suddenly notices that he is not wearing those stupid fingerless gloves anymore. They must’ve been destroyed with the castle when it exploded. It feels like forever ago. The thought makes Lance weirdly upset.

“It’s nice to meet you. Lance has talked about you a lot,” Keith says. Veronica raises a brow.

“Same to you,” She says, but shakes his hand nonetheless. A voice in the back of Lance’s head screams something about _wlw/mlm solidarity_ at the sight of their joined hands. He shakes the thought out of his head and turns to Keith.

“You’ll love dinner,” He says. “The whole family will be here. They’d love to ask you some questions.”

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

(Dinner goes about as well as expected. Lance’s whole family is crammed around their uneven dining room table, and there is so much food, and so many different threads of conversation. Keith is the focus of all of them. He gets asked a lot of questions, just like Lance said. Lance answers half of them for him. Many of the conversations dissolve into Spanish halfway through.

Keith looks lost, but happy. He answers as many questions about Kosmo, and his scar, and his lion as possible, all with a happy gleam in his eye.

Lance’s thigh is pressed flush with Keith’s denim clad one underneath the table. Neither of them move. Everything is warm.)

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

They escape the house eventually, late in the night, screen door slamming shut with a bang behind them. Kosmo is asleep on the couch inside, and the laughing voices of Lance’s family echo out into the night. Lance lets out a sigh of relief. Keith watches in amusement, hands still shoved in his jacket pockets.

“So,” He says innocently. “Leandro, huh?”

And honestly, the syllables of Lance’s real name shouldn’t roll off of Keith’s tongue so effortlessly, so melodically, but they do anyways. Lance wants to be angry at how easily this whole thing comes to him; interacting with Lance’s family, being polite and good-humored, pronouncing his name correctly.

Then he thinks about Shiro’s words, about how Adam called him Takashi. And he flushes.

“Let’s just go, Keith,” He mutters, stomping down the porch steps. He hears Keith follow.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

(“Akira,” Keith says abruptly as they pass by storefront after storefront of old tourist shops and boutiques. The noise of their footsteps are accompanied by crickets chirping and the distant crashing of waves. The only light is from the stars above and the occasional streetlamp. They seem to be the only people here.

“What?” Lance asks, caught off guard.

“My dad named me Akira. He used to call me that... Before he passed. Keith was just my english name. It was easier for everyone to say.”

And Lance has never been filled with so much understanding in his entire life; thinking of garrison kids who had never spoken a word of Spanish in their lives mangling his name on their inexperienced tongues. He understands how important a name can be to someone. Takashi. Hunk's first name, Iosefa. Pidge's chosen name, Katie. Leandro. Akira.

“Akira,” He repeats, tasting the word in his mouth. “It suits you.”

Keith smiles, soft and sweet. They keep walking.)

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

It is dark when they arrive at the beach. Since the Galra’s invasion, there have barely been any tourists to begin with; just the locals who have finally returned to rebuild their lives at the place they once called home. Now, at this late hour, the beach is deserted.

The sands are pale and the waters shallow, stretching out for miles, and it’s unlike any beach Lance had seen when they were in space--because alien beaches only ever had bright orange sands and dangerous purple seas, and none of the simplicity and familiarity that Earth beaches had. He wonders what Keith thinks. If it’s living up to the way Lance described it on that abandoned planet all those weeks ago, delirious with homesickness and exhaustion and maybe a little drunk on the way Keith had made him feel.

Lance kicks off his sandals and buries his toes in the sand. Keith watches, hands in his pocket, as Lance sits, facing toward the waves as they gently recede. After a moment’s hesitation Keith sits down next to him and works on taking off his boots. He seemingly does not care about the fact that he’s getting sand all over his jeans. Something about him is oddly endearing in this moment, Lance thinks, and he watches Keith work on untying his laces.

“It’s really pretty here,” Keith says, and then, quietly: “I think Earth might be the prettiest thing I’ve seen.”

Lance nods in agreement, and then there is silence. Keith’s boots are off, and so are his socks, and he tosses them aside and digs his toes into the sand with a sigh. His bangs hang in his face.

The moon is a crescent, and it shines brightly, reflecting off of the water in the most beautiful way. Lance wants to be a part of this moment in nature forever and ever, where the Galra are gone and everything is at peace and he feels like nothing can hurt him.

“So,” Lance says eventually. “Do you understand now?”

“What?” Keith turns to look at him.

“Why I said I wanted to come here first. When we came back to Earth.”

Keith pauses, and then looks out at the ocean, eyes tracing the curves of the waves. He stares for a few moments, lost in thought. And then he is standing up and taking his jacket off, tossing it onto the sand next to him.

“Keith, what are you doing?” Lance asks cautiously, and catches the mischievous glint in Keith’s eye before he pulls his t-shirt over his head. Lance’s mind short-circuits for a second, because Keith is standing in front of him, shirtless, and it’s not like Lance has never seen him shirtless before, but--this time is different. Keith has a lot more scars than Lance remembers seeing, marring his pale skin, and he is also all muscular and strong, but soft in all of the right places--and then he reaches for his jeans, and Lance is screaming, “ _Keith, what are you doing?_ ”

Keith pauses, bemused. “I’m gonna go in,” He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, continuing to undo his jeans. He shoves them down over his thighs and past his knees, and Lance's brain goes completely blank. Keith steps out of his sandy jeans, and then he is just in his boxers, in the open, in the middle of a beach where anyone could walk in and call the police and arrest him for public indecency.

(Not that anyone would, because Varadero is still relatively empty, and this is the beach, after all--people get naked here all the time, it's what you _do_ when you go to the beach. And in any case Lance doesn’t even know if the law enforcement system is up and running as of right now due to the fact that Earth has just been taken over by aliens for four years, and he doubts that anyone would call the police on two paladins of Voltron who just recently saved the Earth from said aliens, naked or not, but still.)

Part of Lance prays that they will get arrested. At least then he wouldn’t have to suffer through seeing Keith like _this_.

“You gonna join me?” Keith asks, and if Lance isn’t mistaken he sounds playful and happy and maybe even a little bit flirty, his eyebrow quirked and mouth upturned. Lance’s face flushes. Keith doesn’t wait for Lance’s response before he is walking towards the ocean and stepping into the water, as if it’s not absolutely freezing. He reaches up and pulls his hair tie out, and now his hair is flowing softly in the breeze, reaching the tops of his shoulder blades in dark waves. _What the fuck,_ Lance thinks, his brain bordering on hysterical. He’s totally doing this on purpose. Keith looks like a fucking masterpiece, all dark colors and bold lines and warm shapes, like he belongs in a museum somewhere sophisticated and elegant and not here, not in Varadero with Lance where he could get lost in the tides of the unforgiving sea.

He is everything that Lance wants to be. _He is everything that Lance wants._

Lance is awestruck. Keith keeps stepping into the surf. He’s getting further away. He’ll be fully engulfed by the water if Lance never gets up to join him.

Lance watches for a moment longer. And then he reaches for his shirt.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

The water is absolutely freezing, just like Lance thought. He feels goosebumps form along his arms and legs, but it’s too late to back out, because Keith is now up to his knees in water. He’s never been one to back out of a challenge issued by Keith anyways.

The moon is still glowing, coating everything in a luminescent film.

Keith turns back and smiles a fangy smile at Lance, stopping to wait for him. His eyes are glowing again, purple irises against yellow.

Lance thinks he’s in love. He’s almost sure of it now.

He keeps wading toward Keith.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

Once the waves begin to hit Lance’s stomach, they stop moving forward. The water really is cold as shit, and Lance thinks that he might end up dying from hypothermia. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go, though; he’s home, and he’s in the water, and he’s standing next to a beautiful boy, and everything feels so otherworldly right now, despite them finally being back on Earth. The sky looks like it’s bleeding stardust into the water because the sea is so shiny and silver. But he still stops.

“We shouldn’t go any further,” Lance says. He looks up at the moon. Stares. He’s missed it so much.

Beside him, Keith is silent. Their hands brush underneath the water. Lance can feel his eyes burning into the side of his face.

“You look like you belong here,” Keith says, and Lance turns to him, confused. Keith takes a step back, hesitant. “I mean, you are the guardian spirit of water… I guess the Blue Lion chose you for a reason.”

Lance frowns. “I’m in Red now, Keith.”

Keith nods, and then looks away. “I know. I guess I just… forget sometimes. That things aren’t the way they used to be. That Shiro can’t pilot Black anymore. That you’re not in Blue and I’m not in Red. That I’m the leader.” There is something pained in his voice.

Lance aches as the words leave Keith's mouth, aches with longing as he thinks of the times that he used to pilot Blue. He was so sure of himself, then. So confident and comfortable. He yearns for when he and Keith had squabbled over unimportant things but managed to fight back to back, always. Trusting each other. Admiration and aggression and respect and respite, all wrapped up in every interaction they had with one another.

“You’re a good leader, Keith,” Lance says quietly, because he doesn’t know what he should say. He doesn’t know what Keith wants.

Keith sighs, looking away, out into the open sea. “No, I’m not. I’ve done a lot of things that I regret.” He pauses. “You know what I tell myself, whenever I feel like I’m not doing enough? When I’m not making the right decisions? I say, ‘What would Lance do?’ And I do that. Because you always know what to do, and what people need, and you’re so much better at this than I am.”

Lance is drowning again, not in the water, but in the way Keith’s words flow and ebb over him, soaking into his skin and his bloodstream. “Keith…”

“No, Lance, just listen to me,” Keith is saying, not angrily, but wearily. “I feel the way Black responds to you sometimes, when you lead the team. When you do what I can’t. Black trusts you. Respects you. I don’t know why I’m still her paladin. It should be you.” Keith looks directly into Lance’s eyes then. “It should be you. It’s always been you.”

Lance isn’t sure what they’re talking about anymore, if this is still about Lance and Black or maybe about something more, something deeper. He pushes forwards anyway. “I’ve always wanted Black, Keith. But she never chose me. She always had someone better, someone with a lot more potential and skill and talent. She deserved better.”

Keith shakes his head. He looks like he wants to argue with what Lance just said, but he can’t find the words. Silence ensues, and it's filled with a type of tension Lance doesn’t know how to describe. They’re both still facing each other, but looking out into the horizon where the sky seamlessly blends into the sea.

Then Keith takes a deep breath, and drops into the water, disappearing into the midnight blue of the sea. How reckless, Lance thinks, diving into a freezing ocean late at night where God knows what lurks underneath the waves. How brave.

When he comes back up, his body shines just like the moon, stardew sheen on his alabaster skin. His hair is dripping, inky strands plastered to his forehead.

Before Lance can think, he is reaching out and pushing Keith’s bangs back, away from his eyes. Lance doesn’t think he’s ever seen Keith’s whole face, without his hair obscuring at least a third of it. His beauty is there in the angle of his cheekbone, in the mole underneath his eye, in the chapped dry skin of his bottom lip. Lance’s hand lingers at his jaw, fingertips grazing his cheek.

There is a tiny smattering of freckles above Keith’s brows. His skin is really warm, despite the freezing temperature of the water. Lance wants to place his palms on either side of his chest and stay there, forever, soaking in his heat.

Keith looks at him, eyes wide. His irises continue to glow. He probably has some sort of heightened Galra night vision, Lance thinks. What an asshole. Lance can’t stop looking at him, drinking up his features, tracing the slope of his crooked nose and the curve of his neck with his eyes.

And then Keith splashes his face with cold water.

Lance sputters. “What’d you do that for?” He yells, teeth chattering. Keith laughs, loud and beautiful.

“What, are you scared?” Keith taunts, and then he is lunging for Lance. Lance is too slow to react, and he shrieks as Keith grabs him around his waist. Lance is grappling for purchase, but for some reason Keith is a lot stronger than he remembers. Maybe it’s his Galra strength, or maybe its the fact that he spent two years on a celestial space whale getting absolutely jacked. Whatever the case, Lance can feel Keith’s biceps flexing against his skin, and it’s incredibly annoying and maybe just a little bit hot as Lance hopelessly flails, trying to get out of Keith’s freakishly strong grip.

Lance kicks at Keith’s legs, which buckle, and then they're both plunging into the water. Keith’s arms are still wrapped around Lance’s waist. If Lance could stay like this forever, underneath the starlit ocean with Keith holding him close, he would. He would do it in a heartbeat.

But he can’t. They surface seconds later, and Lance gasps for air. He is breathless, and his palms are actually on either side of Keith’s chest, pressing into his skin. Keith _is_ warm, Lance thinks in a detached sort of way. I am touching him and he’s warm. Keith’s chest expands with each breath he takes, and his hands are clutching Lance’s hips.

They somehow ended up deeper into the ocean, and the water reaches above their chests. Lance’s feet scrape the sand. His hair now lies in limp curls across his forehead, dripping down his browbone.

Keith is staring at him, a smile fading from his face. He looks distracted. Normally, his pupils would be narrow, affected by his Galra state. Right now, they are round and large. His eyes sparkle silver in the faint light of the moon.

“Lance,” He breathes, and his voice is raspy and rich. He might be inching closer, or it might just be a trick that the gentle waves of the ocean play on Lance’s mind. He’s close enough now that Lance can see the small gap between Keith’s front teeth through his parted lips. He’s close enough now that he can smell Keith, the scent of mint toothpaste and sandalwood and cinnamon underneath the salt of the sea. He’s close enough now that if he leaned forward just a couple of inches, and Keith met him halfway, their lips would be touching.

“Lance,” Keith says again, and he is coming closer, but he isn’t meeting Lance’s eyes. Lance detests the fact that Keith has to lean down to come closer, but he also kind of loves it. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Lance whispers. Keith shakes his head.

“For how I’ve been treating you lately. For coming back from the Blade and brushing you off. For leaving you in the first place.” The last part is barely audible over the sound of the sea. “Lance, I need you to understand. It was never your fault, but… Part of the reason why I left was so that you could stay.”

Their cheeks brush, Keith nosing along Lance's jawline, hot puffs of breath on his skin. Lance is overwhelmed, his chest filled with an inexplicable heat despite the chill of the ocean. His hands slowly slide up from Keith’s chest, and he wraps his arms around Keith’s neck. Now their bodies are flush. The waves keep hitting them rhythmically. Lance closes his eyes, and just feels. Feels the electricity that is generated each place that their skin makes contact, feels the tension in the air and the weight of unsaid words finally being spoken.

“It’s okay,” Lance says, voice wavering. “It’s okay, Keith. I never blamed you. I just wanted you to come back.”

“Lance,” And this time it’s a question against the shell of Lance’s ear. Lance brings a hand up to tangle in the hair at the base of Keith's neck. They stay like that for a while, soaking up the contact and the warmth and the feeling of each other.

“You know when I said that Earth was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen?” Keith asks eventually, drawing back so that he can meet Lance’s eyes. Lance hums. “I lied,” Keith says.

Lance looks at him. His heart is pounding in his ears, his tongue tied.

When Lance doesn’t respond, Keith continues.

Eyes dark and sincere and full of something Lance can't quite comprehend, he says, “You are so beautiful. When I first saw you here, it was hard to look at you because you shine like the sun. You have a lot more freckles,” Keith runs his fingers along the bridge of Lance’s nose. “And your hair is curly,” He brushes Lance’s hair away from his eyes. “And you’re smiling so much. It’s crazy.”

Lance is speechless.

Keith is suddenly nervous, stuttery and unsure, eyes flicking from Lance’ eyes to the sea then back again. He lets out a shaky laugh.

And then, barely audible over the ambience of the ocean, Keith says, “I think I’m in love with you.”

The world wobbles beneath Lance’s feet. All at once, he feels his heart drop, and then soar.

Without even thinking about it, he leans forward and places his lips on the corner of Keith’s mouth, soft and plush and a bit open-mouthed. He pulls back. Keith looks wonderstruck and dazed, eyes half-closed and eyebrows drawn together.

I did that, Lance thinks. Keith is maybe kinda in love with me, and I just kissed him.

I want to do it again, Lance thinks.

So he does. He leans forward once more and kisses Keith properly, catching his top lip between his own. Keith reacts this time, pulling Lance closer and kissing back softly, perfectly. He squeezes Lance’s hips once, twice, fingers splayed against the skin above the waistband of Lance’s boxers. Lance’s fingers are tangled in Keith’s hair still, and he pulls gently. Keith sighs into his mouth.

They kiss with the rhythm of the sea.

 

☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

 

They leave footprints along seafoam after what feels like hours of kissing in the middle of the ocean, and put on their sandy clothes once again. Keith complains about the sand in his jeans. Lance leans over and kisses his cheek, and then his lips, just because he can.

They both smile at each other, but the hesitancy is gone, replaced with joy and love no longer hidden by uncertainties.

Walking back to Lance’s house is nothing short of an adventure. They find a horde of tiny crabs on the beach that Keith is absolutely fascinated by, as if he hasn’t seen a variety of much more interesting alien creatures in his years of defending the universe. Lance is captivated by him. He spends too much time watching Keith watch the crabs.

They walk through the town again, but this time holding hands. Lance has only ever felt the warmth of Keith’s palm against his once without gloves obstructing the contact--all that time ago, on a lonely blue planet where Lance dreamed of taking Keith to the beach. Keith's palms are calloused and rough and large, and his fingers are short and his knuckles thick. Lance can’t stop squeezing his hand. Keith squeezes back.

There is a cute ice cream shop that still remains open, despite the late hour and the absence of people in Varadero. Lance scrounges around in the pockets of his shorts for spare change, and buys both him and Keith granizados. Lance gets strawberry. Keith gets blue raspberry. They exchange tastes as they walk hand in hand.

They sneak into the house through the back door, because mostly everyone is asleep. The clock in the kitchen says that it’s around three in the morning. As they creep up the stairs, Lance thinks he hears Veronica on the phone with her girlfriend, one of the pilots that she had fought alongside when retaking Earth--Rizavi, maybe? Veronica laughs softly at something Rizavi said as they pass by her bedroom. Lance leaves her be.

He realizes belatedly that this is the first time Keith is seeing his room as he leads him inside. His ceiling is covered in the glow-in-the-dark star stickers Luis got him for his eleventh birthday, arranged into Lance’s favorite constellations; Orion in the corner by his bed, Ursa Minor in the middle of his room, Pegasus by his window, all glowing faintly. His twin bed is pushed into the corner, a mess of pillows and tangled blue sheets. Lance has fairy lights strung around the perimeter of his room, and he flicks them on as they stumble inside.

They both flop onto Lance’s bed, Lance on his back and Keith facing him on his side. The lights twinkle softly above them, tiny stars in the orbit of Keith and Lance’s atmosphere. Their hands are still connected, and Lance thinks he could live in this moment forever--Keith lying down next to him sleepily, still slightly damp and salty from the ocean waves, in his childhood bedroom, where no Galra or druid or evil of any alien kind can touch them ever again.

Keith looks up at him, violet eyes and long lashes. His hair is drying in waves, like the ocean itself. Lance adores it.

“Back when I was travelling to the quantum abyss with Krolia, I kept having visions,” Keith says without preamble. “It was something about spacetime itself being manipulated by dark stars. I saw the past. How my parents met and found the Blue Lion on Earth. How they fell in love and had me.” He takes a pause here, and closes his eyes. “I also saw the future. I saw a glimpse of my battle with Shiro. I saw us going back to Earth.” He stops, stutters. “I… I saw you, over and over and over again.”

Lance’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t interrupt. It is so rare for Keith to talk this much at once. It is even more rare for him to talk this much about himself.

“I didn’t know it was you, exactly. I only ever caught glimpses. A piece of your hair. A patch of freckles on your shoulder. The sunshine on your back. But in each one of them I was so happy. Happier than I’ve been in my entire life. I knew as soon as I landed here in Black and saw you come out of your house that it was you. I should have known before, though. It has always been you.” It seems that Keith cannot stop echoing this sentiment.

Lance is melting under the intensity of Keith’s words, the sincerity of his voice, the softness of his heart. Falling for him all over again, but in different ways--not just for his smiles and his hands and his iridescent eyes, but for his heart and his voice and the way he makes Lance feel--tender and warm and deeply, deeply in love.

Keith is like the ocean, Lance thinks, in that he is incredibly deep and beautiful and dangerous and dark. And when you get too close, he pulls you in like the sinking tides. Whether or not you embrace him is up to you.

“Akira,” Lance says. Keith's eyes go wide at the use of his real name. Lance crawls over and pushes Keith onto his back, then lays on top of him, sliding his legs in between Keith’s and burrowing his face into Keith’s neck. Keith’s arms come to rest around Lance’s torso, gripping him tight. “I’m in love with you, too. I have been for a while, I just... didn't know how to face it. I've known for a while, that I wanted to be with you. I know that I want to be with you right now, no matter what, and in the future, too. Whether it’s here, on Earth, or deep in space millions of light years away from home, fighting another intergalactic threat and saving the universe. And I think I want to kiss you even more, and cuddle you, and hug you, and possibly even marry you and adopt hundreds of little alien babies.”

Lance kisses Keith’s neck, lips closing around his pulse point, and then trails his way up to Keith’s face, peppering kisses along his skin. He traces Keith’s scar with his mouth.

“Okay,” Keith breathes. “Okay. I can work with that.” And then he’s capturing Lance’s lips with his own again, slow and languid and passionate and fiery, cupping Lance’s face with his big palms and closing his glowy eyes.

Lance feels a different sort of fire begin to build up within him, lit by Keith’s mouth and Keith’s hands and Keith’s everything. Keith lights the way to a life Lance didn’t know that he could have. Lance is no longer a dying star. He no longer burns. He creates; he heals and warms and illuminates.

Lance lets the love consume him, and for the first time accepts his fate of being romantically blessed for the rest of eternity. He sparks.

 

 

.☆ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ

**Author's Note:**

> a few things, in all seriousness:  
> -from the bottom of my heart, fuck season 7. lgbt kids deserve so much better than a broken promise of rep and the overused homophobic bury your gays trope. also? the racism jumped out. the writers/showrunners of vld really need to learn how to treat coc properly (ESPECIALLY LANCE). nasty  
> -i have been attached to this show since around s2. it is so terrible to see something you love so much just go right to shit. so im takin these characters and running!  
> -keith and lance's relationship is one that i will never really get over, despite what straight nonsense vld seems to be forcing on the audience in s7. (im talking about acxa/keith... allurance is fine!! just not my cup of tea) i believe that they are soulmates no matter what....  
> -rizavi and veronica are dating BECAUSE I SAID SO also i didn't include it in this fic but just know that romelle and allura are in love. im thinkin abt making a separate fic for them tbh. voltron needs more wlw that dont uhhh fucking die (@ezor and zethrid :// ).  
> anyways if u liked this, leave a comment or a kudo! i will love u forever.  
> also?? come talk to me on tumblr [@etherja](http://etherja.tumblr.com/)


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